Austin Stambaugh - Jim Given Of LaGrange

When it's dark enough, you can hear raccoons climb and clink on the hubcap pile
Where near after midnight, out back in the barn, Jim Given of LaGrange is working under a car
With two hazel eyes and a heart so proud, his wife cut hair out of the house
He built himself on mechanic's pay for two little daughters and one on the way

And every morning at seven o'clock he would leave and return for dinner at five thirty-three
To the house where his wife waitеd patiently with a child in her arms and one on hеr knees
And after dinner he'd kiss her goodbye and go work under cars for the friends he relied
To pay back the time he so seldom shared with a wife back home he thought would always be there

Well, the TV talked on the telephone while three little girls were becoming grown
In a council of neighbors, I'll let it be said, there was someone close to Jim who saw what he had
So one early mid-morning the hair chair was dry, with a conscience unsure and no reason to lie
And one familiar face she could always depend, she fell in the arms of Jim's best friend

Now I know myself enough now to know I'm the image of one who works himself in a hole
Though money can be saved, it often is free. It will separate a man from his family
And as if Jim's wounds I will self-inflict, I'll worry my future and envision it
Though he is my blood and I feel the same, I must somehow do better than Jim Given of LaGrange

Now the buckeye branches sway and tilt where he lives with his daughter in the house that he built
And West Virginia's many miles away but two miles from town lives Jim Given of LaGrange
And when it's dark enough you can hear raccoons climb and clink on the hubcap pile
Where near after midnight out back in the barn Jim Given of LaGrange is working under a car